Crying in the Rain (Hiding Behind The Couch Character and Festive Episodes)

23 Mum Knows Best

Ade

J ulia’s house was , like most family homes, a bipolar residence. The evenings were vibrant and loud, with Ade’s nephew and niece yelling and squealing and running up and down the stairs, two low-carriage basset hounds yapping and attempting hot pursuit, while Julia and Russ hollered at the four of them to ‘pack it in’ or ‘pipe down’ or ‘get in your bed, now !’ and tried to catch a little R-and-R in front of the TV before turning in for some much-needed rejuvenation…only to do it all over again tomorrow. Then there were the daytimes, when everyone was out and the warm glow of family turned to a foggy, off-white blankness, leaving Ade with too much time to dwell and ruminate and generally do his mental well-being no favours.

On the plus side, Fergus hadn’t tried to call. In fact, nobody had called. Kris and Pip had both said they’d wait for Ade to call them so he had a chance to rest, and he’d pretty much crashed out for the first forty-eight hours. Truthfully, it had been years since he’d felt safe enough to properly sleep, but acknowledging how long he’d allowed Fergus to hurt and control him reminded him how pathetic he was…no, how pathetic he had been , so he was trying not to consciously think about it.

His subconscious, however, had different ideas—panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks…he felt like some kind of nut job, sitting up half the night, reading trashy novels to fill the hours, and then napping half the day away in front of the TV. He couldn’t face going out, but being alone was turning him morose. He was missing his job, missing Pip, missing Kris, and mu ch to his shame, he was missing Fergus. He kept reminding himself: breaking the habit was the hard part, and he mustn’t give in to the craving. What he needed was a new routine, or any routine at all, so he could get back to normal ASAP and stop malingering like some kind of unemployed lodger.

Come the following Saturday, Julia had clearly had enough and took charge, insisting Ade accompanied her for the weekly grocery shop. He went along with it purely out of guilt for being such an atrocious house guest, and he was glad he did, as they spent the entire day cruising the Trafford Centre, buying clothes and eating lunch and doing very little in the way of grocery shopping, just like they’d always done before It stole his fun.

The next morning, feeling a little less the worse for wear than he had, Ade joined Julia’s brood for their usual Sunday ritual of a family walk and a full English breakfast. It was the first meal Ade had felt like eating, but Julia killed his appetite in one fell swoop when she informed him he was going to church with them, and it wasn’t optional.

He tried not to freak out, telling himself it’s only communion . Julia wasn’t to know Fergus had forced him to go too, which had to have been some kind of self-flagellation, given the reason Ade had stopped going in his teens was that he’d realised his sexual ‘preferences’ went against the Church’s teaching. Or maybe Ferg thought an hour or two of praying for forgiveness gave him a free pass for the rest of the week.

For the sake of peace, and because he didn’t want to be alone with Ferg squatting in his head, Ade went to church, and it turned out to be OK. Maybe more than OK, as the vicar had a rainbow pinned to her sweater—no stuffy robes—and made a point of letting Ade know he was always welcome in her church.

“I swear I didn’t tell her anything about you,” Julia assured him frantically as soon as they were outside.

Ade hooked his arm through hers. “Gaydar strikes again,” he said, and they laughed and reminisced his coming out to their parents, which began when a Year 9 boy approached Ade in his first week of high school to invite him to the pupil LGBTQ group, led to Ade panicking that he would be accidentally outed at parents’ evening and concluded with him bravely deciding to get in there first. He could still recall every single second of that Wednesday night, standing in the kitchen, Julia sniggering because every time Ade began speaking, their mum interrupted to tell him it didn’t matter if he wasn’t doing well in maths or science or English or every other subject on the curriculum until Ade just blurted, “I’m gay!” That had shut them both up, leaving Ade waiting for the other shoe to drop, but then his mum said, “I thought you might be,” and hugged him and that was that. His dad took a little longer to accept it, perhaps because he wasn’t around day-to-day, but it made no difference to their relationship or their shared love of classic cars.

Julia had been right, though, he had to concede. Going to church had been good for him, but it also underscored how much the world had moved on while he hadn’t been looking. It wasn’t that he was totally out of touch with reality—working in radio guaranteed he’d be up to date on current affairs—but all the small, important things, like his sister’s career change for instance, had passed him by. He needed to do better. But first, he needed to get better.

The rest of Sunday was of the typical working-family variety—roast dinner, ironing, homework, preparing for the week ahead. And then it was Monday, and Ade was on his own again. He had a lie-in, took the dogs for a walk, checked his email, ignored the phone…

Mum kept calling, and he couldn’t avoid her forever. In the evenings, Julia fielded for him, reassuring their mum that he was fine and in the bath or on the loo or already in bed. When she called during the day, Ade let it go to voicemail, listening back to the increasingly weary request that he call when he could and then sending a message to say he was OK but busy. All lies.

By Wednesday, despite his best efforts, he’d slipped right back to where he’d been a week ago. He needed a shower and a shave, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. Still, he decided that when his mum called today, he would answer. Except she didn’t call. She turned up in a taxi and let herself in, and the first he knew about it was when she said his name. He leapt from the sofa, palm to his chest.

“Mum! You frightened the life out of me.”

Her eyebrows rose, unimpressed, but as she gave him a once-over, her expression softened, no judgement, only warmth and love. She opened her arms, and he readily went into them.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I’m so sorry,” he said over and again, incapable of articulating any of the million things he was sorry for.

“Shh. It’s all right, sweetheart. Mum’s here now.”

Incredible how that childhood truth still held. From grazed knees to broken hearts, his mum had fixed everything, protected him from mean big sisters, the bully next door, even his dad, who had been a decent, laid-back sort of bloke but hadn’t always been supportive of Ade’s choice to study ‘arty-farty subjects’. His mum soon set him right. But as fierce as she was, she had a heart condition, and Ade’s fear that the stress would kill her was real, which was why he’d put off seeing her. That and his shame for remaining in a situation any sensible person would’ve ditched at the first opportunity.

She held him for a long time, while he sobbed and sniffed, on the one hand wishing he could stop crying, on the other knowing the second he did she’d start asking questions. He was almost right: she sent him off to make coffee first.

Ade returned with the two mugs and sat in the chair, both to keep his distance and for the change of scenery. He’d spent far too much time curled up on that sofa.

“Has he gone, love?” his mum asked. Ade nodded.

“Yes. For good.” The tears welled again, and he picked at a stray thread in an attempt to thwart them. It was holding a button on his pyjama top and fell off into his hand. His mum laughed, her laughter quickly turning to tears, which set Ade off again. He moved back to the sofa, his arms around her now.

“Thank God,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”

“Why? You told me, and I didn’t listen. After Dad—”

“It doesn’t matter now.” She turned and tilted her head back to look at him as she smoothed his messy but hopefully not greasy hair. It hadn’t seen product in days and badly needed cutting. “I’d say no harm done, but…I can’t stand thinking of all he’s put you through.”

Ade shrugged glibly. “I’ll heal.” It was better she didn’t know the finer details, but there was no getting out of telling her about the MG. Just gearing up to saying the words had him cowering in anticipation of violent repercussions, but of course, there were none. She didn’t even raise her voice, though she was clearly upset.

“I’m sorry,” he said uselessly.

“As am I, sweetheart. I know how much that car means to you. But in the end, it’s just a thing, and you still have all the lovely memories with your dad, so you can let it go.”

*

Fergus chose that afternoon to break the non-contact. He called Ade’s mobile phone; Ade hung up. He called again; Ade hung up again. After a short delay, Julia’s house phone rang. Ade met his mother’s steely gaze.

“Did you tell him you were here?” she asked.

Ade shook his head. “No, but he knows I came here last time.”

“Right,” she said. “If he calls again, I’ll deal with him.”

And call he did.

“Adrian wants nothing to do with you.”

“He’s a grown man. Surely, he can make up his own mind.”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing?”

“Look, I don’t want to fall out with you, Rita, so if you wouldn’t mind just— ”

“Right. You listen to me, Fergus. If you come anywhere near my son again, I will go to the police and tell them exactly what you’ve done. Do you understand?” She hung up before Fergus had a chance to answer.

Ade covered his face with his hands, his breathing amplified by the cocoon of his palms.

“All right, sweetheart?” his mum asked.

He gave a quick nod. Yes, he would be, in time.

***

Kris

K ris’s usual fear of forgetting his lines kicked in just as he hit the call button, but he’d needed to rehearse so he didn’t say the wrong thing. He and Ade had chatted online briefly, in text form, and there had been a couple of missed calls from a Manchester landline that Kris assumed were from Ade, but he hadn’t called him back. He’d asked for time, and Kris had tried to give him that, but it was almost two weeks since he’d gone to stay with his sister, and Kris was starting to worry that Ade had changed his mind about giving their relationship a go.

The call rang out a few times, but Kris held on with fingers crossed.

“Hello, you!” Ade answered warmly.

“Hey.” It was such a relief to hear his voice. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Not at all. I’ve just got out of the shower, and before that my mum popped round to see me. It was really hard but good.”

“Is that the first time you’ve seen her since…” Kris stalled at since you kicked Fergus out .

“Since I came to Julia’s,” Ade finished for him. “Yes. He called while she was here, actually.”

“He?” Kris hated pressing the point, but he wanted to be sure they were talking about the same person .

“He. The ex. I decided I’m not even going to refer to him by name anymore. In fact, I’m considering just going with It .”

“OK.” Having seen Ade pinned to the wall by ‘It’, Kris was struggling to find the funny side to what he supposed was a little gallows humour on Ade’s part. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Not much. Slouching around in my PJs, watching daytime telly, sleeping…and sleeping. I can’t seem to get enough.” Almost as if to emphasise the point, Ade broke off into a yawn. “Ooh, sorry. I promise you’re not boring me.”

Kris did manage to chuckle at that. “It’s fine. Shaunna’s the same. After her mum died, she was asleep more than she was awake.”

“Well, you know,” Ade said airily, “being a redhead is dreadfully exhausting.”

“So I’m told.”

They both laughed and then fell quiet. Kris took a breath, ready to make his invitation, but Ade jumped in first.

“I was thinking I might come over and see you at the weekend, if that’s OK with you?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. In fact, I was about to ask if you’d consider coming to a party with me on Saturday.”

“What kind of party?”

“My friends, Dan and Adele?”

“The ones with the fancy garden?”

“That’s them. They’re getting engaged. And if you think their garden’s fancy, wait until you see Dan’s mum’s house—where the party’s being held. It’s one of those grandiose Victorian mini mansions, but it should be a fun night.”

“Is it a big party?”

“Fairly.” Kris had prepared himself for disappointment, understanding that it might be too much for Ade to face, but he was still secretly willing him to say yes. “If you’d rather not—”

“No. I’d love to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. ”

“OK.” Kris sighed in relief.

“Did you think I’d say no?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t.”

Two weeks apart, forty miles or so between them, yet the connection was still there, that undeniable, irresistible attraction. Kris had missed Ade like crazy but didn’t want to put pressure on him by admitting it, so he stayed quiet and simply appreciated knowing Ade was on the other end of the line.

“So will you get the train?” he asked eventually, at the same time as Ade said, “I’ll either get the train…”

Kris waited for the ‘or’, but nothing else came his way. “Ade?”

“Still here. Just…the car. I had to tell my mum what happened, and I’m so mad about it. But anyway, I’ll figure out the train times and let you know.”

“I wish I could fix it,” Kris said.

“You in greasy overalls, pulling an engine apart? That I’d love to see!”

Kris laughed. “Never happening!”

“Shame.” Ade was laughing too. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither. Can I meet you at the station? Is that OK?”

“That’s perfect,” Ade said.